


classified information

by AmyDancepantsPeralta



Series: without you, I'm nothing (one shot tumblr prompts) [8]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Peraltiago, Tongue-in-cheek, What happens when Amy meets Jake's hero and Jake ... doesn't.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 12:03:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyDancepantsPeralta/pseuds/AmyDancepantsPeralta
Summary: “Not even a text, Ames?” he mumbles, casting his eyes to the floor before looking back up.  “A sneaky photo or two?”She sighs, her shoulders rising and falling with the action, and suddenly he’s desperate for the feeling of her arms around him.  “I’ve told you already, babe.  It was - ”“Classified information.”  They say it in unison, Jake’s tone noticeably less interested in the importance of such a concept.





	classified information

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a little bit of fun based on a request on Tumblr for Fictober #28 - _'Enough! I heard enough.'_
> 
> Just something else to tide us over during this long, loong hiatus.

**classified information**

“Enough! I’ve heard enough.” Shaking his head in defeat, Jake slaps one hand across his brow, wedding band feeling cold against the bridge of his nose. Taking in a deep breath, he tries to regulate his thoughts before letting his hand slide further down.

The knife-twisting-in-his-gut feeling that came from a betrayal like this didn’t seem to be subsiding. If anything, as his hand slides down towards his neck and Jake looks over at his wife, the feeling was only getting worse.

She has the decency to look morose as she watches him react to her news, eyebrows knitting together to form that _are you okay_ expression that has pulled so many confessions out of him in the past. Her eyes and wide and sincere, and he knows - he _knows_ \- that she never intended to hurt him. 

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” she whispers, eyes full of regret as she takes a tiny step closer. Instinctively, Jake takes a responding step backwards. “I wanted it to come from me.” Her voice firmer, she shakes her head. “It _should_ have come from me.”

Jake shakes his head. “Doesn’t change what happened.” He’s being petulant, he knows. But he just can’t believe what he’s just heard. He tells her as such, shaking his head as both hands land on either hip. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me.”

Amy’s shoulders drop, her hands moving to fold in front of her chest as she watches him carefully. “I couldn’t have, Jake. You know that.”

Realistically, she’s right. He knows that she’s right. And what’s worse - he knows that she knows that he knows she’s right. But the truth still cuts like a knife. “Not even a text, Ames?” he mumbles, casting his eyes to the floor before looking back up. “A sneaky photo or two?”

She sighs, her shoulders rising and falling with the action, and suddenly he’s desperate for the feeling of her arms around him. “I’ve told you already, babe. It was - ”

“_Classified information._” They say it in unison, Jake’s tone noticeably less interested in the importance of such a concept. 

There had been less than an hour left in his shift when he first heard the whispers - that there had been a theft at a film set not far from the precinct. He’d shrugged, less than interested - Brooklyn was often the go-to location for film shoots. This was New York, after all. And after his less than favourable foray into TV sets, Jake had made it a personal rule not to get involved in the trappings of Hollywood. 

Then the rumours began to grow. _It’s a High Profile set. A big star is involved,_ they said. _So big, that only the Sarge is involved_. 

And to be honest, when Jake heard Sarge, his mind went straight to Terry. To him, Amy was just _Ames_ \- his wife; his moon and stars … the love of his life. He rarely referred to her as _Sarge_. (Except, you know, occasionally. For Sexy Reasons. Because, when somebody as gorgeous as Amy Santiago stands in front of you in full uniform and tells you to start stripping, you comply.) 

And then he remembered that Terry was a Lieutenant now, and that the Sergeant they were referring to was most likely Amy, and Jake grew a little more curious about this supposed Big Star. He’d even sent her a text, mentioning the whispers, and when she replied only a moment later with an _It’s no big deal, babe - nothing exciting_, he’d pushed it all out of his mind.

Turns out it was, in fact, a big deal.

A big deal, because the secret celebrity that Amy met with today, was none other than Bruce Willis.

Bruce Willis. 

AKA, John McClane.

Jake’s wife, Amy Santiago, had met Bruce Willis today. And she hadn’t even called him.

Or texted. 

Or snuck in a sneaky selfie, immediately-erasable-via-Snapchat-stylez. 

She had touched the brightest star in the cosmos, and hadn’t even brought him back a sparkle. 

There were so many things wrong with this situation, Jake genuinely didn’t know where to begin.

In the end, it was Gina who spilled the beans. Which was impressive really, considering she didn’t even _work_ at the Nine-Nine anymore (and there would be some who debate if she ever really _did_). Sending Jake a text about how ‘_ya wife had just upped her cool points by spending the afternoon with Bruce Willis_’, and ‘_also do you think Arnie could ask Bruce if he would attend my next book launch party?_’ - a text that Jake had stared at for a solid five minutes, distracted only when Amy swung open the front door of their apartment, finally home after what had obviously been a huge day. 

Her smile had been bright, and on any other day Jake would have pulled her in for a kiss, but the idea of Amy meeting his childhood hero and _not telling him_ was still hanging over Jake’s head, and he found himself rooted to the spot. 

It had taken her mere seconds to confess, in a way that in hindsight made Jake realise that she had, in fact, wanted to tell him all day - but hearing the details was turning out to be worse than not knowing at all.

Because not only had Amy met Bruce Willis, she got to walk around a film set ALL DAY with him. Met his co-stars - interviewing various actors for information regarding the case; having lunch with him when the clues took longer to catalog than she had anticipated. Shared his _salad_, in fact, when she realised that she was allergic to all the options available at craft services.

All of this, while Jake was sitting at his stupid dumb desk, writing up boring paperwork for his mundane grand theft auto case. 

Sometimes, life just wasn’t fair. And so he raised his hands in surrender, calling out _Enough!_, and for now their apartment was quiet.

He feels his head drop, and in a second Amy’s gentle hands are on his arms, and it’s like a drop of water in the middle of a desert. Jake’s arms are around her waist in a millisecond, pulling Amy closer, sighing as the comfort of the touch of his favourite person. They stay like that for a few minutes, both of them too comfortable to move, until Jake pulls away with a mumble about taking a shower. 

She offers her company, and he shakes his head no - unable to push away the morose feeling that was hanging over his head, a heavy storm cloud threatening to break at any second. It must be obvious to her, how he’s feeling (and in a way, it probably always is), and he watches her face turn from contemplative to confused, arms returning to their crossed position in front of her chest. “Are you … _angry_ at me about this?”

Jake shrugs, noncommittal in his response.

Amy’s eyes narrow into an all-too-familiar look. “Jake, I was assigned this case because of my discretion. Of course I thought of you when I realised who I was interviewing today. But I had to be careful, babe. If we’d compromised such a publicised case like this … it would have been disastrous.” Her forehead creases as she looks down at the floor. “What’s more, it would have reflected poorly on _me_.”

Jake feels his heart drop down to his feet as the realisation that his reaction to Amy’s day has only made her doubt herself. He knows that in the larger scale of things, he was probably overreacting to it all. Perhaps it was the fact that his birthday was around the corner, and he was getting closer and closer to facing that number 40. Or that whenever he’d brought up the topic of the upcoming celebration for said birthday, his friends and colleagues seemed less than enthusiastic about doing _anything_ with him. Whatever the reason, he just couldn’t shake the feelings swimming around his mind. Clearing his throat, he looks up at Amy, waiting until her head has lifted before speaking. “I’m not angry at you, Ames. I’m not. I just … it just kills me that I wasn’t there. And that I found out from Gina.”

Amy’s mouth twists slightly. “I get that. I was trying to get home to tell you as quickly as I could.” She hesitates. “Honestly, if anything I would’ve expected it to come from Boyle.”

“BOYLE?” Jake replies, eyes widening. “_Charles_ was there?”

Her teeth sink into her lower lip. “Kind of, yeah.”

_Will this horrible day EVER end?_ He shakes his head, despondent, repeating his need to take a shower. Perhaps, if he tried hard enough, he could wash this whole thing away.

An hour has passed when Amy runs her hand along the back of Jake’s shoulders, the familiar scent of her favourite perfume wafting over him as she moves from the back of the couch to stand in front of him. He looks up, trying his best to plaster on an _I’m fine_ face, a mask he knows she can see straight through, already feeling ridiculous for such petulant behaviour earlier. 

She smiles, reaching her hand out for his. “You and I need to get out of this house, babe.”

His hand grabs hers, as automatic an action as breathing by now, and shakes his head. “I’m not sure I’d be the best company tonight, Ames.”

Her fingers squeeze, tugging slightly until he’s being pulled from the couch. “You’re the only company I could ever want, Peralta. Now come on, let’s just grab dinner somewhere. I’ve got the perfect place in mind.”

Jake’s nose is buried in a game on his phone for the majority of the drive to their destination, and when Amy pulls their car into the parking space he looks around in confusion, eyebrows knitting when he doesn’t recognise any of the storefronts his eyes catch. “Ames?” he asks, turning towards his wife, cocking his head to the side when she winks in response.

“So maybe I’m not thinking dinner after all,” she giggles, pointing towards the sign just slightly outside Jake’s peripheral. An oversized panel, with flickering fluorescent letters spelling out _Johnny’s Laser Tag_ lights up the otherwise dark carpark. “I think that maybe you need to blow off some steam.”

He smiles, the first genuine smile in what feels like the entire evening, nodding enthusiastically when she mentions that she’d also ordered a pizza to be delivered to the same address. _She really is his Dream Girl._ And it was ridiculous of him to have reacted the way that he did. 

The apology is still forming in his head as he follows her into the building, not noticing the lack of literally anybody else until they’re well past the front lobby, Amy’s hand tugging him towards the central game zone with an eagerness he hasn’t seen all night. He’s trying to slow her down, pull her back towards him for a second, when suddenly there’s a bright flash of light, and an overwhelming shout of _SURPRISE!_

He’s blinking in confusion and Amy is grinning and he can hear the unmistakable squeal of an overexcited Charles somewhere in the background, and when all of the elements finally merge together in his mind, Jake realises that just about every person he has ever met is standing in front of him, smiling from ear to ear. There are _happy birthday_ banners and balloons and streamers and music playing in the background, and he’s so happy that he could just about burst. Without hesitation, he pulls Amy in for a kiss, so full of joy and love and gratitude for her that words have completely failed him. 

It’s another hour before he notices Amy checking her phone almost obsessively, brushing off his questions with her multiple methods of (admittedly successful) distraction. He’s one more glance away from pulling her into a quiet corner so that he can finally figure out what is on her mind when she checks her watch and grins, pulling him to the centre of the room and using her best Librarian Shush to pull the room into silence. 

She announces to the crowd that while they had all been incredibly successful in surprising Jake that evening, there was still one more tiny surprise up her sleeve. Boyle, doing a terrible job of keeping his cool, saunters through the crowd until he reaches the front door, swinging it open with such a flourish Jake wonders if perhaps his friend’s true career path is on stage in Broadway. 

The thought is fleeting, however, because immediately after that, his heart stops - jaw dropping in shock.

In the doorway, smiling and holding out a celebratory bottle of wine, is none other than Bruce Willis. 

Bruce Willis, his favourite actor ever and the man behind the character that convinced Jake to join the NYPD, was at his birthday party. 

In the days to come, stories would be retold of Jake’s party at the local laser tag. They would mention how drunk Gina got before challenging Boyle to a dance off (which ended, predictably, in disaster); how handsy Amy got after a few drinks and kept pulling her husband into the darker corners; and how Terry had challenged Rosa to a row of shots before failing terribly three hits of tequila in. 

But Jake’s _favourite_ memory, and the one he will treasure forever, is of him and Bruce (because they’re friends now, and _friends_ call each other by their first names, just like he and Bruce do), strapping on laser gun holsters, McClane Stylez, and dominating the Laser Tag zone like they were saving Nakatomi Plaza all over again. When he retells the story, Amy will roll her eyes, telling whatever audience that the two of them took things _way_ too seriously, and that by the end everyone had just given up and let Jake play out his Die Hard dreams. 

Afterwards, the actor had told Jake about how incredibly good Amy was at her job (information that was not new to Jake at _all_), and that when she had solved the on-set theft so quickly and discreetly, dropping by to meet her husband (or _his number one fan_ as Amy had put it), seemed like the least he could do. Even admitted that maybe the stories he had heard from Reginald VelJohnson had stemmed from a misunderstanding, promising to set the story straight next time the two met. 

Later that evening, when everyone had returned to their homes and Amy’s Holly Gennero costume had made a welcome resurrection, Jake would hold his wife close to him, whispering apologies for his earlier reactions. She understood him, in a way that nobody ever really had, and having her beside him was truly the best part of any day, hands down. And the fact that she had managed to pull off the greatest surprise ever, only made him love her all the more.

Plans to get in contact with Will Shortz before Amy’s birthday in September run through Jake’s mind as he closes his eyes, the soft sound of Amy’s gentle snores lulling him to sleep. If he got to meet his hero, it seemed only fair that Amy would get to meet hers. 

(With any luck, this puzzle master would be a _little_ less gorgeous.)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you found that enjoyable! (It's a little different I know ... but that's kinda what I like about it?)
> 
> (Also, if this happened in the show, Jake would lose his MIND) 🤯🤯
> 
> Comments/kudos are always welcome, and SO appreciated. xx


End file.
